


Stained Glass

by FractumMaleficus



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Brief appearance of Death, Gabriel and Rowena should have been friends, Hurt/Comfort, culmination of a beautiful friendship, mentions Fergus MacLeod, mentions sam winchester, not that bullshit scene
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-07
Updated: 2018-09-07
Packaged: 2019-07-08 00:29:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,587
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15919305
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FractumMaleficus/pseuds/FractumMaleficus
Summary: Rowena knew Samuel would be the one to kill her, and some part of her knew he would flee. Far more significant that she knew Gabriel would be the one to answer // AU where instead of screwing in the library, Rowena and Gabriel became friends and worked together through shared traumas together.





	Stained Glass

Samuel had abandoned her, relegated her to the dishonour of exsanguinating on the floor while touting that the bullet wound in her chest was apparently a kindness. Contrarily, Rowena suspected it was his cowardice. Unable to deliver fatal finality, she had guided his hand and the gun against her breast. Punished for his lack of resolve, and her death would be arduous. When the shot was fired, she had kissed him on the cheek and bade him farewell; promised the hunter that she was a grown woman, and the world was more important than her maudlin sentimentality.

She hadn’t expected him to flee quite so quickly.

Of course, she hadn’t mentioned that before Samuel had arrived, she had carved the immortality spell out of her leg. Now on her own, crumpled on the floor with mangled limb bleeding onto the carpet, violet magic seeping into her eyes, she felt the crushing weight of her solitude. Palm slid across the carpet, torso following until she is stretched out, watching her tears drip into the fibres.

❝Gabriel. Please, if you can, please. I’m dying.❞ Much of her remaining energy is devoted to easing the pain that clutches and tears at her frame. She doesn’t even devote effort into detecting where the bullet is lodged that she might move it, and either expedite or hinder the ultimate consequence. Instead entirely numbs her physicality, proving once again that she is fundamentally a coward. Perhaps she could save herself, but this fate is comfortable, welcomes her with unfettered compassion. Rowena will greet her demise with the serene contentment of someone who has run too long.

Billie rifled idly through one of her grimoires, feigning disinterest and perhaps impatience. Nevertheless sensitive enough not to encroach on upon the tragedy of the moment, similarly resisting the desire to torment the redhead in her vulnerability. Barely deigned to cast a glance at the dying woman, Death will not mock her pain or her peace, and there is a strange sort of comfort in that; as if it is an anomaly the natural order cannot quite consume. Even more aberrant is acquiescent smile smoothed over pallid lips. Grand battle of wits finally reached natural cessation, and the witch need not concede her place. Has retained her dignity, and earned her end. Reluctantly Billie utters silent admission that the sorceress has succeeded.

Archangel’s presence is golden warmth enveloping her entire essence; palpable before cautious gaze recognises his figure, though vision is swimming and unreliable. Hands materialise, apparently from the voids distorting her senses, but she does not protest. Instead, form and substance surrenders herself to his light, kaleidoscopic, shone through the stained glass that has defined their friendship. And the tribulations they have endured seem only artistic license within the resplendent facade. 

Grief clutched at Gabriel’s heart as he sank to his knees, tenderness guiding his gestures as he cradles her fragile head in his lap. Doll-like in the porcelain tint of her skin, the glassiness of vibrant eyes, and in the way she cannot move without his assistance. Rendered physically weak in one of the most profoundly magnificent moments of her life. He too can see Death waiting quietly, and is less accepting of her presence. An insult to the radiance within the woman, the child, he protects. Red is his, and the archangel promised her long ago that she would be cared for. A subtle threat in flaring gaze that the other cosmic entity is not needed; sensible enough at least to retreat. Observe the memorial from a tactful distance.

❝’Course I was gonna come, Red. Told ya I would.❞ The touch of her rapidly cooling flesh permits him to sense the solemn eagerness for this moment. Understands that this graceful exit is the product of her own agency, capable of staying her demise, and yet choosing rightness. Sacrifice will erase the red in her ledger, atone for the chaos she caused, and return natural order to existence. Pride surges boldly in his heart even as tears liquefy amber eyes. ❝You came good, I knew ya would, even when you argued with me. And look at you now. Restoring balance, and tryna save that poor dumb Winchester from himself. There’s a place in heaven for you, Red. I’ll take you wherever you want to go.❞ 

Sanguine stained fingers reach forth to bless cracked cheek, evanesce the salty tracks found there. Tremulous shake of her head, unnecessary, for this is a tired discussion. Altered in that she is finally able to believe her worthiness; still, it is not the end to soothe her soul, heal those remaining wounds. ❝My son.❞ Eternity in The Empty, the sole conscious being surrounded by sleeping angels and demons. The utter loneliness that will be endured for the sake of seeing her child again. Long-forgotten role as a mother recently revealed as her ultimate purpose. Powers she was gifted with, misused to this point. Designed for love, realised almost too late, perverted for centuries, now cleansed in final breaths.

Wracking cough shifts the bullet weakens her further, and suddenly the agony of dying collides with her body. Fresh sobs and heaving breaths, and Rowena knows she can prolong this for mere minutes - if that. She sees a truer outline of Gabriel emerging into her new reality; her physical existence fades away leaving only the existential, the magical. Perception is defined by those realms, free of the mortal coil and granted such radiant expansion. Beautiful wings in stunning metallic cradling her tiny form, and she could laugh if it didn’t hurt so much. All the power and knowledge she craved in life granted to her in death.

❝You in pain, Red?❞ Magic had palpably faded and he guessed what spells had been maintained and then crumbled into nothing, perhaps more crucially, he was cognizant of its significance. Grace replaced her power, replicated its manifestation, and the final moment of lucidity illuminated her emerald eyes, unbound from her pain. ❝You did good. I love you, Rowena MacLeod, and you deserve every ounce of it.❞ 

❝I love you too, Gabriel. You’re the only saviour I know.❞ Words emerge not from her mortal body for it is devoid of animation and gradually crumbling to ash on the sullied ground, despite the way his hands curl into her frame. Instead, they emanate from violet light lingering by his side, hastily coalescing into more recognisable form. Embodiment of the vision he has always had; this is her soul given figure and form. The angel closes the eyes of her former containment and stands, greeting the pure personification before him with peaceful expression. She appears younger, he muses as he takes her hand, finally knowing serenity unattainable in life. Finally, Rowena MacLeod has been liberated. ❝I’m ready, I know what the rest of eternity will be. Please, take me to my son.❞ 

Wings envelop her soul, carry her lightly to the Empty, to a remote corner inhabited by a single lonely figure. Not the brown-eyed meatsuit of his demon days instead, there lays a youth with eyes like the sea, and curly locks still chocolate in hue, but highlighted by his mothers crimson. Instantly identifiable by his appearance, let alone the surging burn of the woman who bore him. Soul responding with a most fundamental instinct, reacting to the child she forsook. Sensation as if she might combust if her absence is prolonged; every reason for her demise a mere few feet away, and the intensity is near overwhelming.

❝Not the time to back out now.❞ Gabriel coaxes slightly when Rowena hesitates, not making any move toward her child. Broken reverie and the woman smiles up at her friend, no longer a witch, or perhaps she simply doesn’t care anymore. Alabaster arms entwine around him, petite frame demanding proper embrace and the archangel is more than happy to oblige. Bittersweet tears fall from golden eyes because she deserves to have this, to be at peace, but he’d become attached to the spunky little thing, and he was going to miss her. 

❝Thank you.❞ She kisses her cheek and smiles, tinged with melancholy, because he was her friend too, and she will miss him in eternity. Slowly she turns, crouches by her boy and settles. Floppy brown hair in her lap, her own body draped over that of her son. ❝Mama’s here. I told ye I’d be back. I’m sorry, I’m sorry it was longer than a flash, but I cannae leave ye again. Mama loves you wee boy.❞ 

One final gift Gabriel can grant the MacLeod’s; can bestow upon his friend. Silent approach achieved without her detection, and he places two fingers on her forehead, brushing aside fiery bangs to do so. ❝Rest now, Red, and you and he can be together.❞ Not quite heaven, but will bear so much significance for the broken family. Souls entwined for eternity, sleeping in the Empty, and yet it will not feel so desolate for them. Illusions were always his speciality, and as far as Rowena or Fergus will know, their perpetuity will be spent in familial bliss. Cottage in the Scottish Highlands derived from descriptions a drunken Rowena had once dreamed of to him when the night had been shrouded in demons, and fantastical escapism became necessary for survival.

Moments later and he is gone, but somewhere in an old, rundown church, an image appears in stained glass. A young girl with vibrant red hair offering a bouquet of wildflowers to the archangel Gabriel, who holds one out to her.

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is the culmination of a friendship explored in an rp on tumblr, so there's possibly a few unclear references. For instance, the stained glass motif was the product of a scene where Rowena was comforting Gabriel. There is a famous depiction of him in stained glass holding a flower, we simply adapted that to have been in a church in Scotland where Ro may have seen it as a child. She used that memory to remind him of his holiness and light.  
> Anyway, this wasn't beta read or anything so all errors are my own. Feedback is like oxygen.


End file.
